


A Prince with a Plan

by sweetsmalldog



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Isolation, Little to no comfort, Loneliness, M/M, Martin Blackwood Needs a Hug, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Martin Blackwood, prison-break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27273925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetsmalldog/pseuds/sweetsmalldog
Summary: It has been five months since his kingdom was invaded. Five months since he'd last seen his friends and boyfriend. And it has been five months since becoming the unwilling puppet of the conquers Peter Lukas and Elias Bouchard and Martin is slowly breaking.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Sasha James, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	A Prince with a Plan

Martin sighed as he laid in bed. Another day alone, another day pretending to be someone else’s chess piece. The joint forces of the Magnus and Lukas armies had been too much for the defenses of his small kingdom. So now he sat as a prisoner in his own castle, a puppet prince for Peter Lukas, and supposedly bait for Jon. They’d known Elias would come for him, they’d been prepared for him and his armies they hadn’t prepared to fight two. 

So now Martin was alone, Jon, Melanie, and Georgie who knows where. Sasha, Tim, Basira, and Daisy locked in the dungeon below. His mother was so ill he couldn’t see her. The only people Martin did see on any consistent basis was Elias Bouchard and Peter Lukas, who rotated his servants to keep him isolated from anyone else. It didn’t help his sinking suspicion that his mother’s poor health worsening was probably one of them slowly poisoning her.

He laid in bed blissfully warm and thinking back to happier times until he heard a knock at his door. He sat up as he called, “Come in.”

He slipped out of bed as the four veiled servants filed in, he couldn’t see their faces or even a hint of skin, each covered head to toe in grey fabric. He sat at his vanity mutely, they wouldn’t talk to him even if he said something. One of them started to brush his hair with sweet smelling oils as another picked out his clothing for the day. He idly watched one take silk flowers out of a bag as the final one picked through the contents of his jewelry box taking out a string of pearls with hair pins on each end.

After the first finished brushing his hair three and four started styling it, pulling it up into a pair of twin rolled buns on top of his head before pushing the silk flowers in and pinning the pearls so they sat against his brow. Before they clinically rubbed more sweet smelling oils into his face. He couldn’t feel anything but the thick fabric of their now dampened gloves. The one he assumed was the first one gestured for him to stand. They dressed him in a pale purple suit coat with a white shirt, pale grey pants, and a pale grey vest. The pants were tucked into a pair of boots. And finally he was handed a pair of white gloves. He hated the gloves. The final bit of artificial insulation Peter Lukas had created between Martin and everyone else.

He pulled the gloves on one after another without hesitation. A part of him screamed as he did it, probably his dignity but it was softer then it had been five months ago. The constant loneliness he now lived in was physically embodied by the gloves, they were a symbol of Peter’s control and Martin could suffer them for others, he could suffer them to help Jon.

After he put the gloves on he walked through his bedroom door and through his sitting room to the hallway knowing there would be two guards waiting. They were covered head to toe in black armor so Martin couldn’t see their faces either. He started walking, the only sounds in the halls were Martin’s boots and the clinking of their armor. There wasn’t anyone else there either, probably Peter’s doing.

Everything was blank. The old portraits of his ancestors were gone and Martin couldn’t bring himself to miss him. They’d always seemed to stare at him judgingly as he’d pass even when he was small. But the emptiness was disconcerting. The monotony of the white marble hallway walls and pale blue on the floor was only interrupted by the occasional elaborately decorated door.

The staircase with its intricately carved railing was similarly empty. He was sectioned between the guards as if they worried he’d run. While he was tempted he knew that would be pointless. He could do more making his captors think he was native and scared. And he was scared but he wasn’t native, he couldn’t be.

Eventually he got to a dark oak door that one of the guards swung open, revealing a luxurious dining room in the center was a small circular four person table with two empty seats on either side. The guards closed the doors behind him, they didn’t follow. Inside already sitting were Elias and Peter. 

Elias somehow always seemed to look like an eye themed supervillain. With all the eye symbolism he walked around covered in, he truly was incredibly tacky in a horrible creepy way. Peter somehow still looked like he lived on a ship in the middle of the ocean which was impressive in a weird sad way. 

Martin sat in one of the open seats between them. He stared at the elaborately decorated teapot in the center of the table. His reflection looked distorted in the polish of the fine china, he was paler then he’d been five months ago. He didn't meet either of his captors’ eyes. Peter was reading something, probably a report while Elias was glaring at the door to the kitchens like it had personally slighted him. Neither said anything to him and for that small mercy he was thankful.

He much preferred when the meals he shared with them were silent. It was more bearable, even if he was already constantly surrounded by silence and the not faces of others when not with them. In some way he preferred the unbearable loneliness, there wasn’t any twisted words or emotional manipulation in that. Just a gentle fear that he’d never see a friendly face again, that he’d forget Jon’s face. After what could've been four minutes or twenty a veiled servant came holding a tray with three plates of food on it. They set one down in front of each of them as Peter slipped what he was reading away.

At first the meal was blissfully silent. Even Peter and Elias’s usual bickering was absent. Just the scraping of forks on plates. 

“So Prince Blackwood, anything you want to tell us?” Elias said out of nowhere, of course the peace wouldn’t last.

“What?” Martin asked looking up.

Elias rolled his eyes, he’d always bought into Martin’s young dumb prince stick, “Some unaccounted members of your court seem to have started a rebellion in the south.”

“Oh,” Martin put on a surprised face.

Elias gave him a pointed judging look, “Jonathan Sims is rumored to be among them.”

“Well that’s very lucky for you isn't it?” Martin replied innocuously not meeting Elias’s eyes, “You said you were looking for him.”

Elias glared at him as Peter held up a hand, “Elias…”

“What Peter?” He snapped as he set his fork down.

“What’s your plan to deal with it?” Peter said voice calm from constantly dealing with Elias. Martin did his best not to stiffen at his words.

“I was thinking about having a public execution,” Elias mused and Martin couldn’t keep his face expressionless. Who were they going to kill? “I was thinking Sasha James who’s currently in the dungeon, I’ve heard they were close.”

Martin froze in place as a cold dread seized his heart. He could barely hear over the sound of his heartbeat thumping in his ear.

“We’ll talk more on it later Elias.” Peter said with a glance over towards Martin, who could only assume he’d gone pale.

Elias didn’t respond, just rolled his eyes. As Martin took a shaky sip of tea.

The rest of breakfast had continued on as normal with the exception of the fear and anger fighting in Martin’s chest. After Peter had “suggested” Martin take a walk in the gardens to clear his head. Martin had agreed softly, they both had known it wasn’t a suggestion. Besides Martin hadn’t been outside in weeks, even if he was being escorted by guards it was better than staying cooped up in his room while he made a plan.

The gardens were as beautiful as they’d always been, but even then it felt lonely with no one else with him. He missed Tim’s jokes and Sasha rolling her eyes even as she laughed at them. He missed the constant of Melanie’s playful teasing that’d been in his life for as long as he could remember. He missed talking with Basira and the awkward head nods he and Daisy would exchange as they both didn’t know what to say. He missed Georgie’s ability a comment out of nowhere and have everyone laughing, but most of all he missed Jon. 

He walked through the covered section of the garden, purple Wisteria hanging down. The air was sweet and crisp. It was so similar to the days spent with his friends and it ached. The guards that usually flanked him whenever he left his room weren’t immediately with him but he knew that didn’t mean he was alone. They were hidden and watching somewhere.

He stepped out onto the grass, taking a few steps until he could see uninterrupted sky. The soft wind was warm, it felt like a false comfort. The picturesque blue sky, the temperate weather, and the blooming flowers all felt like they were mocking him. Everything is beautiful but he was completely alone and all his friends were in danger. 

He had a plan to help Sasha. But he knew that if just Sasha was to escape, though she wouldn’t leave any of them, they’d put Tim, Basira, or Daisy to death in her place. He couldn’t let them die. He was a prince, he was supposed to be king in just a few months, not trapped by enemies and unable to speak to anyone else. He’d failed his people. He’d failed his friends. He couldn’t fail them again. 

* * *

The rest of his day had carried on as it normally would, he took lunch alone in his sitting room, spent a few hours catching up on almost pointless paperwork he knew only existed to fill his time, and dinner was once again with Peter and Elias which was a blessedly silent affair. But even then a plan brewed in his mind.

After dinner he’d changed into his night clothes, taken out the pins in his hair, and put away the gloves he sat at the window seat in his room and waited. The sun had recently set and the full moon shown through Martin’s window casting everything in a silvery glow, glinting off the shining metal details, and shimmering against the silk of the curtains. 

Once an hour at night Elias’s magic would wash through the entire castle telling the man  ~~ monster ~~ where any people or magic items were. Once he felt the wash of invasive magic shoot through him he stood before making his way to his dresser. After removing the false bottom, enchanted to hide both its existence and whatever lay within, he took out a simple but well made traveling coat. It had been a gift from Jon incase of something similar to this.

Martin quickly put the coat on before pulling the boots he’d been wearing back on. He also quickly grabbed the leather-bound notebook he kept beside the coat, written in code. Then he pulled one of the books on the bookshelf and twisted it to the right. It gave way to a secret passage. He quickly started down the stairs it revealed. The passages were dusty and Martin had to cover his mouth to keep himself from inhaling too much. Soon he found himself at a crossroads. He followed down the next set of stairs. Going lower and lower beneath the castle. 

Finally he made his way to another passage entrance. He flipped the long coat’s hood up before quietly easing the door open. With the hood up Martin could no longer see his body, now invisible. He slowly crept through the dungeon, relying on what he could remember, it’s not like he’d ever frequented the place. 

He did his best to stay silent as he avoided the guards and strained his eyes in the low light eventually he came to an isolated section with a key hanging on the wall. There were no guards around this section which made him wonder if this was a trap Elias was planning but he couldn’t worry about that now. He could logically argue that it was because they had less guards while they subjugated his nation and it was more beneficial to guard the entrances and exits instead of two isolated cells in a nearly full dungeon. But more importantly he could see Tim dozing against the wall in the closest cell.

“Tim wake up,” Martin hissed as he tapped the man on the shoulder.

Tim’s eyes blinked open sleepily, “Wha-”

Martin flipped the hood down, “Tim it’s me.”

Tim’s eyes widened, “Martin?”

Martin held the key up, “I'm getting you all out.”

Tim shook Sasha awake. They were both filthy and had lost some muscle mass over the months. Martin shoved his guilt down as he unlocked the cell door. 

Sasha’s eyes widened as she focused on him, “Martin what are you doing here?”

“Elias was going to execute you, I could sit by and do nothing.” He admitted as he opened the cell door. The cast iron creaked on its hinges as he did.

“Martin you know what I meant.” Sasha said as she took the key and made her way over to the next cell.

Martin awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, “It was too much of a risk for me to go with them.”

Sasha didn’t argue just urgently whispered, “Basira! Daisy! Get up.”

Basira rubbed her eyes, “Sasha? How did you get out?”

Tim smiled next to him, “Martin’s here.”

Sasha opened the door and let them out, Basira and Daisy were as caked in dirt and had lost a similar amount of muscle mass to Tim and Sasha. Martin’s guilt flared and he shoved it down again. 

“You guys should get going.” Martin said finally once he realized they were all staring at him.

Tim gave him a funny look, “Martin you're coming with us.”

“Tim I can’t, Peter Lukas doesn’t care about the rebellion or Jon or Melanie or Georgie, because he knows the people won’t back them as long as I’m still the prince, but the second I leave he’ll start dedicating manpower to find me. I'm too much of a liability out there.” Martin knew this so why did it hurt to say?

Before Tim could say anything else Daisy covered his mouth and gave Martin a nod of understanding. Martin gave one in return as he took the coat off and handed it to Sasha, “When you flip the hood up it’ll make you invisible, there’s a notebook in the left pocket with everything I’ve overheard. I hope it helps.”

Sasha patted him on the arm and with the lighter material of his nightshirt he could feel the heat of her hand and he only then realized how touch-starved he’d become. With that simple gesture he almost couldn’t bear to go back to the lonely cold of what his life had become. But they’re lives mattered more than his comfort so he showed them to the tunnel that would lead them out.

“We’ll be back.” Basira said before she gave him one last look, “Be careful until then.”

“I will.” Martin assured.

Daisy simply gave him another nod before she followed Basira into the tunnel.

“Goodbye Martin.” Sasha’s voice betrayed her unhappiness with the situation, “and thank you.”

“It’s not forever.” Martin reminded her softly.

“It’s not,” Sasha agreed, “But it’s going to be a long time.”

“I know.” He replied as she gave his arm a squeeze, that made him ache with a desire to follow, before following Basira and Daisy into the tunnel. 

“I want you to know that I think this is bullshit and you should be coming.” Tim’s eyes burned with concern as Martin met them, “But I also know you're stubborn when you want to be, so stay alive and remember that we love you.”

Tim pulled Martin into a hug and it took all of Martin’s strength not to cry at the contact, “Goodbye Tim.”

“Goodbye Martin.” Tim said before he turned and followed the rest down the tunnel, closing the secret entrance behind him.

Martin sadly didn’t have time to process as he snuck back the way he came, hyper aware of his lack of invisibility. He made it back into his room with two minutes to spare before the hour was up. Quickly putting the boots away and returning to the window seat, the ghost of Tim’s hug kept him warmer than he had in months. The intrusive magic once again came through the room. Martin waited until he heard the alarms and screams of guards to smile. They’d gotten out anything that happened to Martin was fine because they were safe.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not going to lie calling Elias tacky felt really good.


End file.
